Talons of a Gothic Mind
She of talons, borne from gothic mind-
Steel of blue her chilly stare,
Pitch of black her fetid blood-
Whence there came an evil flare
To terrorise the weeping kind
Befogged in mental mire; to rape
The shore with phallic waves -
And all for lust, her one desire:
Corrupt the sand of innocence
Without a case for penitence,
Or cause for such as reticence -
While coming on her priapismic fire.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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